Chapter 1 #2
While I stuffed my phone back into my pocket, I felt the next child plop down in my seat.
I looked up and paused when I saw my childhood arch nemesis, Faith.
She wore a pair of black scrubs that exposed the sleeve of tattoos crawling up her cinnamon brown skin.
There was even a massive flower tattoo on the front of her neck, inked into one of the most agonizing looking places on the body.
Swallowing my disdain, I smiled at the little boy in the chair.
He was about four or five years old and looked just like Faith.
Lucky for him, his mother’s ugly spirit didn’t match her pretty face.
“Hi handsome, what would you like today?” I greeted him just like I did all the other kids. The fact that I couldn’t stand his mother wouldn’t change that.
“Can you do Spider-Man?” He lit up, flashing me the cutest smile with his adorable deep dimples.
“Of course,” I beamed, spraying the soiled brush with an alcohol solution and placing its bristles up to dry. “You have Spider-Man on your shoes and your shirt, he must be your all time fave.”
“Yeah, he’s the best. I wish I could shoot webs like him.”
“KASHEWWWWWW!”
He groaned, extending his arm to mimic the infamous web shooting super power.
“I’d go from tree to tree,” he fantasized, pointing at the trees.
“I can tell you would be amazing jumping from tree to tree,” I affirmed.
After sanitizing my hands, I grabbed a brush, my paint palette, and got to work.
Little man put me in my feelings more than I already was, had me missing my elementary aged babies.
We conversed about Spider-Man, a few other superheroes, and a couple of other things he liked.
I felt Faith shooting me daggers the entire time, but I chose to ignore her.
She was still a weirdo, and I usually avoided her because she stopped attending my father’s church after our freshman year of college.
Eight months after the judgmental undertones Faith’s mother hurled at the gynecologist’s office, her own daughter gave birth to a baby boy rumored to have been conceived on prom night.
This clearly wasn’t that child; he was far too young.
Plus, I’d heard he was raised by some of her family members in Pasco County or something like that.
When she was prepared to return to college, her scholarships dried up, and I had no idea what transpired in her life after that.
My eyes wandered to Faith’s ring finger, and it was just as naked as the day she was born, not a tan line in sight.
I scolded myself for the judgmental thoughts, but it was hard because of the hell Faith put me through when we were younger.
Nonetheless, I told myself to do better.
I was trying to unlearn the judgment my parents had raised me on.
The same judgment I allowed to dictate my life.
“You’re all done,” I announced, lifting the mirror so he could see his reflection.
The sun was beaming on him, making the face paint absolutely blinding.
“Mom, I’m Spider-Man,” he celebrated, pointing both index fingers at his face.
“Yeah, you look amazing,” Faith gushed over him, then turned her attention to me. “You don’t want a picture of my baby for your lil binder?” She snipped, helping her son out of the chair.
“No, I already have a few Spider-Man pictures in my book,” I declined, spraying the soiled brush and switching it out for a different one.
“You still have your nose tooted up like you’re God’s gift to earth, huh?”
“No, that’s your own insecurities talking,” I quipped.
“Insecure?” She sputtered, her raised voice resounding through the outdoor space. I instantly regretted dignifying her statement with a response, because I knew the drama would ensue and I wanted no parts of it. “You just called me insecure?”
“Faith, please just leave my table. You’re causing an unnecessary scene and scaring your son,” I urged, watching the concern wash over his handsome little face.
“Oh, and you think you can tell me how to be a mother when the last time I checked, you don’t have any kids!
Probably never will, who would want to fuck your prude ass?
Let’s go, Marlon,” she ranted, snatching her son out of the chair.
Faith intentionally knocked over the cup of water I used to clean my brushes, sending the murky water straight into my lap.
“Yeah, great example you are for your son, Faith,” I snapped, standing from the table to avoid the continuous trickle of water.
I leaned over the table and grabbed the pile of napkins to clean my new mustard yellow knee length dress that I’m sure was ruined.
My focus was on my dress, so I didn’t notice Faith approaching me until her hand whipped towards my face.
I released the napkins and caught her hand mid-swing, pulling her arm across her body.
Faith’s momentum knocked her off balance, and she stumbled while I squeezed her hand until she squealed.
Realizing all eyes were on us, including her handsome son, I released Faith and stormed off.
Entering the church, I maneuvered through the dark like it was second nature. I spent so much of my life in that church that I could make it from end to end in the dark.
“Elise!” My father seethed, storming into the church behind me, his cane clacking along the way.
The lights flickered on, and I spun around to face them. My father lurched forward, his angry strides landing stiff and furious.
“Slow down, Peter,” my mother urged him from behind. Then her eyes landed on me. “What has gotten into you?” My mother added.
“Faith tried to slap me. Honestly, she should be banned from this church. Every time we cross paths, Faith starts with me. I try to keep it cordial but…”
“There ain’t no buts!” My father raged, ceasing my rant.
I lifted my chin and adjusted my posture despite the scolding.
He shifted most of his weight to his good leg, clearly exhausted from the swift hobbling he did on his new knee and cane.
“You are my daughter. You are just as much the face of the church as me and your mother! Yet you’re out there acting like you were raised to street fight!
How do you think that makes us look? How does that make the church look? ”
“Speaking of how the church looks, I saw pictures of you at Victoria’s celebration event with Essex and his wife last week.
You were practically naked! Then this morning, I saw a picture of you dressed up for Halloween last year.
You had the nerve to dress up as a witch.
” My mother complained, folding her arms across her chest. Clearly, that criticism was burning her up all day.
At least it explained her dry greeting when I first arrived.
“I was not practically naked. I had on overalls and a bandeau top. The most you could see were my arms, upper shoulders, and maybe my sides. There was no cleavage. I made sure I bought my top a size up and had it altered to ensure I was completely covered,” I argued.
“You’re assaulting people in the parking lot…”
“I was protecting myself,” I fumed. “What was I supposed to do? Let Faith assault me?”
“You sure weren’t supposed to use the wrestling skills you learned during the time you snuck and joined a team against our wishes.
That type of behavior is exactly why we didn’t want you in wrestling.
Now you’re coaching a wrestling team and showing aggression in front of the entire town,” my father badgered.
“Then you left that great Christian school you were working at for a school that doesn’t include any mention of God, so you can coach a wrestling team.
This is like your freshman year of college all over again.
Have you backslid with Rashawn, too?” My mother taunted, placing her hands on her hips.
My face must’ve given me away because her hands flew to her pearls, and she clutched them tightly.
“Are you seeing him again? Is that what has gotten into you?” She accused.
My mother struck a nerve. It was true, I had backslid and was seeing Rashawn in secret again, but he had nothing to do with my actions.
“Have you forgotten the consequences of your actions the last time you went down the path of lust and sin with him?” My father inquired, striking another nerve that caused tears to blur my vision.
Memories that I fought hard to suppress resurfaced, and suddenly I was struggling to breathe.
Walking past my parents, I frantically fanned my face, heading for the door.
I needed fresh air. My chest and throat tightened, my body overheated, and my breathing turned shallow.
“She’s running away because she’s seeing him again.” My mother panicked, waving her finger at me.
I was in the midst of a meltdown, and my parents couldn’t care less.
When I slipped into the October air, the kids singing, screaming, and laughing were no longer joyous.
It was taunting me. Sprinting to my truck, I pulled my key fob out of my sweater pocket and unlocked the doors.
Tears clouded my vision, and I’m sure many eyes were on me, but I was too emotional to care.
In the privacy of my truck, I belted a heart-wrenching scream.